


Dreams Worth Living

by DraiochtEve



Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: Ambiguous Warrior of Light (Final Fantasy XIV), Fluff, Gen, Gender-Neutral Warrior of Light (Final Fantasy XIV), Gift Giving, Happy Ending, Hopeful Ending, Light Angst, Nostalgia, POV G'raha Tia | Crystal Exarch, POV Third Person, Post-Patch 5.0: Shadowbringers, Pre-Patch 5.2: Echoes of a Fallen Star, Reminiscing, Surprises, Zine: Destiny Awaits - A Crystal Exarch Fanzine, let the exarch be happy dammit, the relationship can be platonic or romantic! Up to the reader
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-29
Updated: 2020-08-29
Packaged: 2021-03-06 22:35:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,998
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26166496
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DraiochtEve/pseuds/DraiochtEve
Summary: My piece for Destiny Awaits: A Crystal Exarch Fanzine!A story of memories, dreams, and a hopeful future.How long had it been since Exarch’s eyes rested upon that precious, brown, leather bag? His surprised inhale echoed against the crystalline walls of the storeroom and his fingers trembled as he reached out to touch it.
Relationships: G'raha Tia | Crystal Exarch & Warrior of Light
Comments: 10
Kudos: 36





	Dreams Worth Living

**Author's Note:**

> It is with great excitement that I finally share my story I worked hard on for my very first zine! Please enjoy! ;;;;;

How long had it been since Exarch’s eyes rested upon that precious, brown, leather bag? His surprised inhale echoed against the crystalline walls of the storeroom and his fingers trembled as he reached out to touch it. The blue hues around him radiated with a glow that taunted him. They were a reminder that the sack was out of place from where it once resided in a tent at Mor Dhona. He could still remember the day he bought it from a seller in Limsa. His excitement _then_ could overshadow any new adventurer’s giddiness. His nostalgia-driven need _now_ was overpowering every ounce of common sense he had to let the past rest in peace.  
  
The familiar material caressed his fingertips and a foggy memory of a night in camp with a good book played in his mind. Exarch frowned as he realized just how faded the scene was with its muted hues and blurry shapes. What had been the color of his tent? He surely had more than just a desk and bedroll, or so he thought. There was a lamp he was certain. And the tome...the tome…  
  
“The Mythos of the Ancients was it…? Or mayhaps—” Exarch pondered out loud as the memory dissipated, “Mayhaps it doesn’t matter, I suppose.”  
  
Exarch tried not to focus on the unease of being unable to call that one detail to mind and instead lifted the bag. The weight was comforting, a sign that not all was lost to time. It wasn’t what he came to this forgotten room for, but the temptation was enough to stifle all reason and let a pool of emotion swell within him. Eyes already beginning to grow misty, he gingerly placed the bag in his lap and unclasped the belts securing its top.  
  
The aroma of age struck him first and it caused a pain to bubble. Indeed, how long had it been? Well over fifty years by now and perhaps even seventy-five. A sorrowful smile tugged at his lips and his eyes fell onto an all too familiar red woven top. His warm palm brushed it lovingly while his crystalline hand gently pulled it out of its prison with a tenderness one would use with a babe. It had seen enough wear in its time and he feared to add anymore incase he unknowingly destroyed a piece of history. _His_ history.  
  
That history also included the wine stain that was still visible on the right breast after all the decades. Exarch chuckled softly as the distant sounds of drunken singing filled his ears. His hero was by his side that night and was the cause of the slight discoloration with a fumble of their glass. He hadn’t complained or scolded them. Instead, he had laughed and grabbed the bottle to replenish what was lost with a song in his throat and the buzz of their discoveries in his head.  
  
Letting go of the echo with a content sigh, the miqo’te peered in once more and spotted the remains of the outfit neatly folded and stacked with care. The pants were far older than the vest, having been one of his first purchases once he reached Limsa, and they showed it with frayed rips and its dingy off-white appearance. The sight reminded him of wrinkles on an old man.  
  
His old boots and gauntlets lied under the pants innocently with several nicks and scratches. Exarch tensed as he swore spells and arrows flew past his head, the force of air and heat rushing by still vivid to him. Twelve curse the imbecilic cities that decided war over the Allagan ruins would trump peaceful scholarly excavations. That month of horrors, while fruitful in his research, had shredded some years off his life, not that it mattered now. At the very least, he had gotten these sturdy pieces of armor out of it which were quite an aid as he later ventured into other dangerous affairs.

Curious, Exarch draped one of the gauntlets onto his crystal arm. He marveled at how it didn’t fit as snugly as before and how much more of a burden it seemed to be. He tried the other arm under the belief that perhaps the crystal simply wasn’t a good fit. However, he was disproven and he groaned with some disappointment.

“Oh, how time wears on one’s body and bone. ‘Tis not surprising, all things considered.”

“Reading poetry in here?” a familiar voice asked from the doorway. Exarch gasped and turned his head in shock and embarrassment. Fumbling with the gauntlet, he dropped it onto the floor and his ears pinned with a quickness that could only say ‘guilty’.

Trying to flash a composed smile as he retrieved the arm piece, he retorted, “No! Simply searching my belongings for the item you requested.”  
  
The Warrior of Light tilted their head and trotted over to get a better view of what the miqo’te had been obscuring. Making a grunt of realization, they grinned fondly at the items and back up at the Exarch who was wiping his eyes.  
  
“Planning to come with me on my next journey?” they mused and ran their gloved hand over the garment in his lap. For a single heartbeat, Exarch wanted to say he was indeed and to give him time to prepare. However, he knew he had other duties that surpassed his own desires. Moreso, if the weight of a mere gauntlet had enough to speak for, he was well past his adventuring days.

“No, my friend,” Exarch replied with a tone laced with sadness and acceptance. “My apologies for getting distracted.”  
  
The Warrior shook their head and said quickly, “No need! I’m the one that disrupted your time.”  
  
“That may be so,” Exarch quipped, “But I believe the relic is more important at this exact moment. Pray, check in that crate over there whilst I check my study again.”

With a nod, the Warrior did as they were asked and Exarch sighed in relief as he carefully placed each piece of gear back into their hold. Mournfully, he returned the bag to the dusty corner he found it and retreated to his study with the peace of mind he could always seek it out when his heart ached for long lost days.

Though he had to admit, he dreaded the thought that one day he would look upon it and not recall those precious memories it held. Perhaps it would be a blessing in disguise? No longer tormented by wishes of the past. No longer doubting his choices for his own selfish gains. No longer constantly at odds with who he was or who he is. A kind of freedom, he reasoned.

The miqo’te held up his crystalline hand and his eyes traced the golden veins with a heaviness. To himself and with monotone, he whispered,

  
“I am the Crystal Exarch and I am where I’m meant to be.”  
  


* * *

“G’raha!” the Warrior called out and the Exarch’s belly leaped at the use of his old name. “There you are! I’ve been looking for you.”  
  
“Have you?” Exarch replied as he slid another book into his arms. He couldn’t help but notice his friend’s eager expression and that they were not-so-coyly hiding a box behind themselves. It made his heart race wildly.

“I have a proposition that comes with a gift,” they replied and slid the rather flat but long box out from behind their back. There was a delicately tied red bow around it that he recognized as Lyna’s way of wrapping. His heart raced faster.

Exarch tried and failed to hide the grin tugging at his lips as he placed the books aside and accepted the gift with timid hands. The weight surprised him. He waited for the Warrior to continue, but they instead gestured for him to open it first before the offer was laid out. Eyebrows quirked with piqued interest, he carefully untied the ribbon and raised the lid up to peek inside. A loud gasp escaped him that echoed in the Cabinet of Curiosity and his eyes widened as he glanced back up at the hero before him.  
  
“What’s this?” Exarch asked, “Is there a special occasion I have forgotten? Will my own robes not suffice? If Lyna-”  
  
“Not a special occasion,” the Warrior replied with a slight laugh. “But, something as important.”  
  
The Exarch’s heart shot to his throat at the implication. Clearly, he was jumping to conclusions and the wrong ones at that. Wishful thinking. “And what might that be?” he questioned while smothering his hopes.

The bright smile they returned stroked those hopes once more and he fought harder against them stubbornly. Finally, they said, “Your old gear didn’t seem like it would cut it, so I talked to Lyna and Katliss and had these made. Lyna insisted because she doesn’t believe your current attire is enough protection.”  
  
As they spoke, Exarch delicately lifted the brand-new robes from their packaging. Lightweight metal armor adorned the chest and arms, and specially crafted runes were sewn all along the long sleeves and collar. Rapidly blinking, he attempted to shoo away the tears welling in his sight and he looked up at his hero with disbelief.  
  
“I...I don’t know what to say…” he admitted with a trembling lip.  
  
“You don’t have to say anything," they replied kindly and held out their hand in invitation, “If you want to come, then come!”

Exarch stood frozen for several heartbeats, his eyes fixated on that familiar calloused hand that offered so much he felt he didn’t deserve. And yet, despite his better judgment, despite knowing he was now as the leader of the Crystarium, and despite every voice of reason telling him to let go of his fanciful desires—

  
  
He placed a hand into theirs.

Exhilaration overflowed within him. He grinned wildly as thoughts of discoveries and battles to be won danced in his mind. Just a taste. He could afford just a taste of the adventure he craved. The Warrior appeared just as excited as they beamed back at him and led him away towards the markets to gather supplies. Books long forgotten, he laughed and followed along with his whole body shaking. It almost seemed like a dream, but yet here he was rushing past the aetheryte hand in hand with his beloved and the stars shining as bright as his spirits.

Before they could reach their first destination, however, Exarch pulled back and slipped his grasp from theirs. They looked at him panicked for a moment, likely fearing second thoughts, but their expression relaxed as his ears wiggled happily.

“Just a quick moment! Allow me to change first. I’ll return, I promise!” he assured as he dashed towards the tower with robes tucked tightly against his chest and sandals clapping loudly against the stairs. And as he reached the Ocular, he caught a glimpse of his reflection on the crystal walls from the corner of his vision. Red vest, worn boots, a cyan _and_ red eye—

Gasping, he whipped his head back to look closer, but the Exarch stared back at him with shocked ruby eyes and in the typical robes. A dull, guilty ache swelled in his heart and he placed a tender hand on the reflection attempting to conjure the previous image to view.

“Please, forgive me this one indulgence.” Exarch whispered with a sad grin, “Once you awaken, you’ll have a whole lifetime of adventures to live— for the both of us.”

As he blinked, the image of his youth flashed once more with an approving simper on its face. Peace, jubilation, and thankfulness overflowed from his being and he exhaled with a smile of gratitude.

“I am the Crystal Exarch as you are G’raha Tia,” he conceded, “But I suppose we can afford to allow myself a few new memories with our hero too…Thank you.”

And with a twitch of his ear, he turned his back to the reflection and began to unclasp his robes.

**Author's Note:**

> Believe it or not, this was a very difficult piece for me to write! I haven't worked under a strict word restriction since grade school, so it was a challenge to capture what I had in my head while not going over! In the end, I believe I accomplished my goal and I'm very proud of this oneshot.
> 
> I would like to express my sincerest gratitude to the zine organizers for selecting me and for working so hard to bring everything together. My fellow contributors as well, thank you for all your hard work and for filling the zine with so much love for our crystal cat! It was pretty amazing being with you through the process and encouraging each other on! I'm still pretty wonderstruck by the whole process lol. 
> 
> And a **big** thank you to everyone who bought the zine! It's a little intimidating to know this piece will be in so many homes physically printed and digital fdjhskfhskdf but exciting nonetheless!
> 
> and lemme tell you, this was written around 5.2 and it sure hits different now LOL I'm glad I made the choice to write this!
> 
> Thank you for reading and I hope you enjoyed it!


End file.
